The Secret’s The Thing

Can you keep a secret, Ama?

Her eyes perk up. Just like they do every time I whisper to her. She turns to look me straight in the eye. The kind of look I’ve always sworn reached right into the depths of my soul. Her gaze was relentless. It searched me. It urged me to just blurt it out. Just say this thing I have been keeping hidden for as long as I could remember. This dirty thing. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I was scared. No, terrified. 

She starts to claw at my leg, a low growl stuck in her throat. Dog speak for ‘tell me already!’

Forget it, Ama. It’s nothing.

It’s starting to get dark. Most of the villagers are coming back from a long hot day on the farm. I know Mama will soon be home. The thought fills me with dread. She wouldn’t be too happy to find me sat here on the ground, talking to the dog. I get up hurriedly and rush to the shed. It’s dark in there and I can barely see anything as I reach for the kerosene lamp. I’m shaking. My elbow hits the silver pans I had spent most of the evening cleaning and arranging. They come clattering to the ground. In my panic the noise is deafening. How am I so clumsy. I choke back a cuss. No. There is no way I can get them back up before Mama returns. I hastily stack them on top of each other and shove them into the nearest corner. I grab a dirty piece of cloth to cover them with. A piece of cloth Mama had asked me to wash before leaving this morning. I grab the kerosene lamp and run out of the shed. As I shakily try to pour in the kerosene, I end up spilling most of it on the ground. There is no way this night is going to end well for me. I scrap some dirt with my foot to cover the spill. Mama doesn’t have to see this.

I hear the sound of her laughter. Then, ‘Kofi Maame, okyena anopa so ye be hyia’. Let’s meet again in the morning.

Ama starts to bark as she runs towards Mama. Not in her usual boisterous way. Even Ama knows better than to disturb Mama’s peace in anyway. 

Mama, akwaaba. Welcome home,mum.

‘Yoo me ba’, she says. Thank you my child.

So far, so good.

I move to help her set down her load but she beat me to it. She looks tired, worn. Today has been the hottest day yet and working on the farm in that heat couldn’t have been easy. I turn to go get her some water. I want to do it before she asks. Just as I turn she explodes. Didn’t I see how tired she looked? Wasn’t I smart enough to get her some water. I whisper under my breath that I was just about to do that. That was a mistake. She is enraged now. How dare I talk back to her. Did I have any respect? Was it not bad enough that she had to spend all day on the farm? Did she also have to come home to this disrespect? 

I’m sorry,Mama.

I rush to pour some water out of the gallon. I should have gone to the stream today, filled up the water drum but I didn’t. Oh oh. I’m not going to make it out of today alive. I rinse out the small wooden cup and fill it up with the only semblance of clean water we’ve got. I take it to Mama. Ama is nuzzling at her feet and Mama seems to have calmed down a bit. I’m not sure how long it will last but I revel in it. It is rare enough. Ama comes over to me when I hand Mama the cup. She is clawing at the ground at my feet. And it’s pulling the dirt apart. Oh no, that is where I spilled the kerosene earlier. The smell is still strong. Stop it, Ama. Stop it before Mama gets a whiff. But Ama keeps going. She loves me but she has no idea how much trouble she’s getting me into. 

First Mama’s eye grazes the kerosene lamp, then to the floor, back to the lamp, and the floor again. Her eyes move up to me. I can feel a storm gathering. Grey clouds, the kind that alerts you from the start that this isn’t just any rain, but a storm. Tear your roof apart, flood your houses kind of storm. I hope I survive this. 

‘K)fa kerosene no bra’,she says. Go bring the kerosene. Her voice is low. Silence before the storm. I am trying to think up a way out of this. Anything. I want to minimize the damage. As I walk slowly towards the shed my brain is working overtime. When I pick up the gallon I realize that there’s barely anything leftover. I pick it up and take it to Mama anyway. As I hand it to her, I keep my eyes firm on the ground. I’m afraid of what I’d see if I looked her in the face. The disappointment, bitterness, anger and sometimes what I thought was genuine hatred. 

Mama, I’m sorry. It was an accident. A mistake

She clears her throat. I’m expecting her to yell, try to hit me with her slipper. That I’m used to. That I can handle. But this silence, I don’t understand. I don’t know how to take it. And somehow that’s even worse than any slipper beating. She heaves a deep sigh. She gets up from the stool she’s been sat on for a while. She stretches out her legs for a bit. I know the discomfort that comes from sitting on those stools a little too long. She starts to walk towards the shed. With a pang I remember the silver bowls I shoved in the corner and pray that by some miracle of nature she doesn’t see them. She must be going to pick up the cane. This will be the beating of my life I can already feel it. 

She is in the shed for what feels like an eternity. But I guess everything feels like an eternity when you’re anxious enough. When you know you’ve really messed up. When you know that you actually deserve this punishment and it’s not just one of Mama’s anger spells. So you stand still, refusing to move a muscle. You realize that you’ve been holding your breath a little too long. You’re starting to suffocate. Your head is all fuzzy. There’s an intense and concentrated pain in your right temple. You’re shaking. And it is all your fault . Why couldn’t you just be the perfect daughter? Why couldn’t you just be normal? Was there something fundamentally wrong with you? Would you ever be alright? 

Mama comes back holding the dirty piece of cloth I covered the silver pots with. She is fuming. Can you do anything right? Did she ask too much of you? Where did she go wrong? Why did all the other villages get good daughters and she had to be stuck with you? Hadn’t she had it hard enough already? Did whatever higher being there was find it funny? Was she getting bad karma for something she had done in her past life? I understood. Anything would make more sense to her than I did. Anything.

She lunged for me with the cloth. Usually I stood and took it. I never wanted to make the situation worse. This time I don’t know what it was but I leaped out of her reach. I didn’t think about it. I just jumped. I didn’t know it was going to do it till I did. She paused. Her arms still hovering in the air. Her shock was visible. The anger it turned to was even more so. Unmistakable.

She threw the cloth on the floor. ‘Firi fie ha’. Leave this house. 

So I do. I have no idea where I’m going. I have no idea what I’m going to do. But I put one foot in front of the other and I keep moving. I’ll figure it out. I stop in my tracks when I hear Ama bark. She runs after me so I keep walking.

Let’s go together,Ama. You’re the only one that’s ever cared anyway.

We walk all the way to the stream. I drop down on the edge. Ama sits next to me. I run my hands through her fur. I have no idea what’s next but somehow I’m not worried about that. I’ll figure it out.

You know that secret I was talking about earlier,Ama? I did something bad. I did something really bad.